A Time of Mourning, A Time of Peace
by Ariel D
Summary: After the Fourth Shinobi World War, Gaara has to face the loss of his best friend, and Kankuro struggles to provide the help he needs. However, Kankuro is forced to remember losing his father, with whom he didn't get to make peace on the battlefield. Brotherly bonding. AU.
1. The Body

**A Time of Mourning, A Time of Peace**

嘆くことの時間、平和の時間

By Ariel-D

_Description: After the Fourth Shinobi World War, Gaara has to face the loss of his best friend, and Kankuro struggles to provide the help he needs. However, Kankuro is forced to remember losing his father, with whom he didn't get to make peace on the battlefield. Brotherly bonding. AU._

_Disclaimer: Gaara, Kankuro, Temari, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Since I don't believe Naruto will die, this story is blatantly AU. Warning: spoilers through ch. 562._

_Translations:_ Nii-san_ means older brother, _ototo_ means younger brother, and _nee-san_ means older sister. "Jan" is the syllable Kankuro adds to his sentences because he speaks with a punk/Yankee accent._

* * *

**Chapter One: The Body**

Kankuro didn't know what to do. He only knew he had to be at Gaara's side.

The news had shocked Kankuro as much as anyone else. Naruto had been the hero he'd always proudly claimed to be. Naruto had shown the courage, determination, and strength of any kage. His efforts had turned the tide of the war, helped win the war, and kept up morale. And in the end, he'd fought Sasuke, even defeated Sasuke — but they had killed one another. Naruto had purged the world of Sasuke's inexhaustible vendetta, and he'd done it by personally bearing away that hate and extinguishing it in the afterlife.

Gaara was crushed.

To everyone who wasn't Kankuro and Temari, Gaara looked quite courageous. He was every inch the Kazekage, delivering speeches to console the survivors, giving orders to help clean up the aftermath, engaging in talks to secure permanent treaties amongst the five great shinobi villages. He was stoic. He was professional. He was organized, logical, calm, and in control.

It was all so much bullshit.

Kankuro was worried about his little brother. Deeply worried. But so far all he'd been able to do was watch. At headquarters, Gaara sat at the table with the Mizukage and the Raikage, discussing the distribution of med nins and medical supplies. Kankuro stood behind his right shoulder, refusing to budge. In truth, Kankuro could barely walk, having not fully recovered from being poisoned — again. Temari, who had only the most minor of injuries, had been sent on several sensitive errands, which she'd accepted after protest, wanting to remain with Gaara as well. Kankuro had met her gaze as she left and nodded at the message contained there:

_Our ototo is going to shatter. Stay by him at any cost._

And Kankuro had done just that. Now, though, the moment had come. Ino had arrived in the doorway, her stare aimed at the ground, and bowed to the kages.

"Excuse me, but if you'd like to see Naruto . . ." She trailed off. Her complexion was unnaturally white, as though her soul had tried to tear out of her body.

For a moment, Gaara grew so still that he didn't seem to be breathing. Without comment, he stood and glanced at the other two kages.

"Go," the Raikage said bluntly. "He was your friend. We will pay our respects at the ceremony."

Gaara inclined his head and marched from the room, Kankuro trailing him. Twenty four hours had passed since victory had been declared; two hours had passed since Naruto had succumbed to his injuries and died. Kankuro hadn't been sure Gaara would be allowed to join Naruto's teammates and see the body. He was glad someone had realized how much Naruto meant to Gaara. And it was just that connection that made him worry about Gaara's ability to pull through this. He was already devoid of emotional and spiritual energy thanks to the war. Everyone was. Plus Naruto had been his first friend, his role model, his source of inspiration — the one to show him he could change his life. Naruto had meant so much to Gaara that Kankuro had been hard-pressed not to become jealous. Naruto had meant so much to Gaara that Kankuro had begun to wonder if Gaara was in love with him. Gaara, though, had shown no romantic interest in anyone, male or female, so he couldn't draw any conclusions on that count.

In the end, Kankuro decided it didn't matter. Either way, Gaara was in a hell of pain. So he kept pace with his brother and Ino despite the lingering numbness in his legs, and he prayed for comfort and strength for his brother. And he worried. He worried because he really had no idea how to help Gaara face this.

When they entered the hospital, Kankuro's stomach seemed to turn to rock. A hard knot pressed against his gut, a knot he knew Gaara had to have as well, and he wondered if either one of them would gain back their appetites ever again. He wondered if they could feel normal again, and if so, how long it would take. He wanted to scramble after that fleeting sense of normalcy, which was now only a whisper of sparrow wings, and bring back the day before Naruto had died, the day before the war began, the day before the Kage Summit. The day before all their lives changed. But the past could only ever be the past, and chasing it could never resurrect it, no matter how hard he tried.

Ino stopped at the door to the west wing, her hand frozen on the handle. She didn't turn around. "We moved him out of Trauma 1 to a private room toward the back of the ER." Her voice was strained. "We waited for all the teams to make it back from the field. I mean, the ones Naruto graduated the academy with or was close to. We figured they would be — we would be — the closest he had to family. Team Kakashi will be allowed back first, along with you, Gaara-sama."

They understand better than I thought, Kankuro realized. Then again, they'd seen Naruto's reaction to Gaara's abduction as well as Gaara's dedication to protecting Naruto from being captured and killed. "Please allow me to accompany Gaara." He used far more polite language than usual, letting the gravity of his tone underscore the only answer he would accept.

Ino paused. "Of course." She slid open the door.

When Kankuro stepped into the hallway beyond, he found the heaviness of the air was tangible like black fog. Since they'd walked through the hospital rather than circling around the outside, they entered the ER waiting room from the opposite side. Most everyone's backs were turned, but Kankuro didn't need to see their faces to know how upset they were. Kiba, the boy Kankuro had once saved, and the Hyuuga boy were kneeling on the floor on the either side of the Hyuuga girl, each holding her as she sobbed. Very few of them even noticed their arrival, and Ino walked past them without speaking. Since Kankuro hadn't been personal friends with Naruto, he hadn't been sure how he'd be affected, but the sight, sound, and feeling of the group's pain made his chest ache and his throat close up. Despite his punk veneer, Kankuro knew full well that he had a heart, and a secretly soft one at that — outside of battle.

Ino led them to a door marked "Consultation" and opened it. Inside, hovering together, were Kakashi, Sakura, Sai, and Tsunade. Kakashi was holding Sakura, who was so grey-faced and silent that she looked much like a corpse herself. Kankuro realized that she'd lost her close friend and her love at the same time, just as Kakashi had lost or re-lost two of his original genin and charges.

"Please wait here," Ino said, her tone flat and lifeless.

His movements stiff, Gaara walked past her without a word, so Kankuro bowed his head to her in thanks. He followed Gaara inside, worried by his brother's complete silence but not really surprised by it. For his entire life, Gaara had reacted to everything with either stoic silence or deep, philosophical speeches. All or nothing. Kankuro had quickly learned to listen to the speeches. When Gaara had been insane, Kankuro had listened to them because if he didn't, his brother would grow angry and violent. When Gaara had changed, he'd listened to them because he gained insight into his brother and bonded with him that way.

Kankuro desperately hoped the bond they shared was strong enough for him to help Gaara through this tragedy, but he honestly didn't know. He knew how much he loved his brother, but he wasn't sure just what Gaara felt about him. Love, certainly. But Kankuro had no illusions about the fact Gaara loved Naruto more than anyone in the world, perhaps second only to their mother. To Gaara, Naruto was The One Who Understood. Kankuro could never fill that void. No one could. And that was what worried Kankuro the most. Had Gaara invested only in Naruto? Could he derive any support and comfort from his nii-san at all? Kankuro prayed he could, even as the very concept that he couldn't stung his soul.

"Thank you for coming," Tsunade told Gaara.

Wordlessly, he inclined his head.

Kankuro stepped up. "Thank you for considering Gaara as Naruto's family."

"Of course." Tsunade gazed upon everyone in the room, her compassion and pain evident. Underneath that grief simmered rage, if her tight jaw was any indication, but she was obviously holding it in. "He's been cleaned up as best we can, but just to warn you, he's still banged up. Ready? Let's go." She opened the door on the far side of the room and stepped into another hallway.

Still hovering at Gaara's shoulder, Kankuro followed them out. He wasn't sure what all the customs and rituals were in Konoha — each country did different things for deaths and funerals — but allowing the family to see their loved one and officially identify the body was clearly an important step here. Suna's own practices were similar, and Kankuro had been forced to do something like this when his father had died. Everyone had known that Yondaime Kazekage was the one in the morgue, but both legally and socially, his children still had been required to make the identification. The experience had left an indelible mark upon Kankuro, and he suspected the same would happen to Gaara now.

Tsunade led them to a room in the back of the ER and then stood aside so they could enter. The instant Sakura saw Naruto's face, she broke down and wailed. Kakashi's expression wasn't easily determined, but his body language was tight and stiff. He kept his arm around Sakura's shoulders, and Sai, who was more expressive than Kankuro had yet seen him, was holding her hand. Tears stood in his eyes.

Gaara entered last, walking up the opposite side of the bed and stopping by Naruto's head. Kankuro stayed right by his brother, his hand on his shoulder. He could feel Gaara's trembling; he could hear the harshness of his labored breathing. But Gaara's face was blank.

Along with his brother, Kankuro gazed down at Naruto. His entire head was bandaged, as well as most of his jaw. Minor cuts showed on what was visible of his cheeks and brow, and his lower lip was cracked. Had he not been pale and waxy grey, he would have simply seemed asleep. It was strange, but Kankuro felt like he only sensed the difference because he already knew that Naruto was dead. After a moment, though, he realized he could sense something more — lack of chakra, lack of spirit energy, lack of soul.

"I can't," Sakura sobbed. "I can't."

"Get her out of here," Kakashi snapped, releasing her.

Sai grabbed her in his arms and teleported out.

Tsunade stepped into the room and squeezed Kakashi's shoulder. "It shouldn't have ended this way. I know it. I took that chance; I believed. And I knew it would work this time. It shouldn't have ended this way."

"I failed him." Kakashi reached out, touching Naruto's arm gently. "I failed them both. I was a fool."

"The things that happened yesterday were out of your hands," Tsunade murmured. "What happened . . . it was like history repeating itself."

Kakashi shook his head and teleported out without another word. With a sigh, Tsunade headed toward the door, clearly intent on tracking him down. She paused in the doorway and glanced at Kankuro.

Kankuro met her gaze and simply nodded, indicating they would be fine alone. Returning the nod, Tsunade slid the door closed behind her.

Instantly, Gaara's façade cracked, his face crumpling. He knelt to the floor, pressing his forehead into the side of Naruto's mattress, and a single, harsh sob tore from him.

Horrified, Kankuro knelt beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. Tears stood in his eyes just from seeing his brother's pain, and he trembled as well, although from stress rather than grief. He'd never wanted Gaara to face something like this. What was more, despite the fact they had been at war, Kankuro hadn't expected something like this. Naruto had always seemed to cheat the odds.

"It's stupid to ask," Gaara said, his words distorted by his sobs, "but why? _Why?_" He paused, tears glittering on his eyelashes and his lips trembling. He inhaled sharply before continuing. "What could I have done differently to save him? What would Naruto have done in the same situation?"

Later, Kankuro would talk to him about his questions, try to assure that Gaara didn't blame himself. For now, though, no real answers came to mind. "He said he would help Sasuke like a Hokage should," he pointed out. It was the only thing he could say.

The tears streaked down Gaara's cheeks. "Then he was still _wrong!_"

Kankuro hugged him, offering what comfort he could. Not that any comfort could be had. Although Gaara didn't pull away, he didn't respond, either. Kankuro felt utterly lost, so he did the only thing he knew to do: he stayed. He remained on the floor by Gaara, his arm around him, his stress and fear for Gaara creating a knot that ate at his stomach lining.

"It's not him," Gaara whispered, rubbing at his face with his jacket sleeve. "It's not him. It's just a shell."

"You're right." Kankuro had always agreed. The body they'd presented to him when his father had died had only been a shell. He had never been the type to cling to a body — not his grandparents', not his father's, not his acquaintances'. The soul was what made a human a human, and that distinction was never so clear and so important than when Kankuro was around corpses. When he killed, he was snuffing out the light inside his opponents — their spirit, their essence, the shine in their eyes. Once that was gone, a body was a body, and it meant nothing to Kankuro at all. His attitude was odd given his culture, perhaps, or maybe it wasn't. Either way, it was how he felt. "Let's go, okay?" He couldn't imagine that remaining would help Gaara in any way, although if his brother wasn't ready to go, he'd stay as long as he liked.

However, Gaara nodded, and they were escorted back to Gaara's assigned quarters. It was all familiar, too familiar, and Kankuro found himself in the past after all. For several minutes, his memory overcame him, and he was fourteen years old again, learning of his father's death.

* * *

"I need to talk to you all."

Kankuro glanced up from the kotatsu table in the great room and found a grim Baki standing in the doorway. It was no surprise. The Konoha Invasion had failed, and no one could seem to locate the Kazekage. A sense of humiliation pervaded the village, along with pain and grief over the casualties and fatalities. Baki's usual stoicism had transformed into a black grimness.

And with those thoughts, Kankuro instantly knew what Baki had come to tell them. Whether it was intuition or simple logic, Kankuro knew his father was dead. He sat down Karasu's arm, which he'd been repairing, and crossed his arms over his stomach.

Temari, who was sitting beside him, lowered the newspaper she'd been scanning and frowned. "What is it?"

From his seat in the bay window, Gaara turned his head Baki's way, but he didn't speak. He'd been utterly silent since the invasion, and Kankuro wasn't sure why. He'd been completely chakra drained from fighting, which could have been part of it, but there was something more, something Kankuro couldn't quite identify.

Baki took a deep breath. "We located your father."

Diverting his gaze, Kankuro stared at the table top. "He's dead." Beside him, Temari inhaled sharply.

"Yes."

Silence.

"What happened?" Temari's voice was unusually shrill.

Kankuro reached out and pressed his fingertips into the middle of Karasu's palm. Its fingers twitched as though they had life.

"We believe he was betrayed and killed by Orochimaru." Baki's voice was quiet. "His bodyguards were found dead, also. The Kazekage officially died from a sword wound; given the remnants of chakra around the wound, we believe it was from Orochimaru's famous Sword of Kusanagi."

_Making a deal with the devil always costs you your soul._ The words fired across Kankuro's mind, unwanted. When he'd learned of their alliance with Sound — when he'd later learned who Sound's leader was — he'd had a bad feeling about it. He'd desperately hoped it wouldn't come to this, but Orochimaru's betrayal seemed so inevitable to him, given his reputation, that Kankuro couldn't shake the obvious conclusion: his father would be killed.

Despite that, he was so shocked he felt immediately numb.

"How long?" Temari's voice had fallen into a whisper.

"Awhile." Baki paused, clearly uncomfortable. "Despite that, both law and custom dictate that one of you needs to come to the morgue and identify him. I must warn you, though . . . he was found in the desert. After extended exposure . . ."

Kankuro understood that he'd probably have nightmares for years. Still, he was fourteen now, and with his father dead, he was the oldest male in the household. He had to act like a man. "I'll go." He stood. It hit him as ironic that he was wearing a plain, black yukata. He was dressed appropriately for a mourner.

Standing as well, Temari stepped close to his side. "Not alone you won't. I need to be there, too."

Wordlessly, Gaara climbed down from the window seat and walked to the doorway, stopping by Baki.

Secretly relieved not to be going alone, Kankuro nodded. Baki led them out of the mansion and through the streets to the hospital.

Kankuro wondered if anyone else in the village knew, but as they wound through the sandy streets, he got his answer. People were gathering outside their doors, silently watching the procession of Yondaime's heirs. From rooftops, masked ANBU jumped down and provided escort. A sense of solemnity shrouded the air, and from time to time, Kankuro could hear the sounds of weeping.

_I can't do this._ Kankuro's feet kept taking steps, his body oblivious to his thoughts. _I have no idea how we can survive this._ It struck him that he and his siblings were orphans now. Both their parents were dead. All four of their grandparents. Their uncle. Except for some second and third cousins who lived elsewhere in Wind, they had no family left, and Kankuro hadn't seen those cousins since his uncle's funeral when he was eight. They were all alone. _What now? What will our lives become now?_

He wondered if his life would ever be normal again — if he would ever feel normal again.

Baki led them to the hospital, Gaara following him closely and Kankuro and Temari following Gaara. Temari had linked her arm with Kankuro's, clutching the crook of his elbow. To an observer, she likely looked to be expressing solidarity, but Kankuro could feel how tight her hold was. She was fighting to remain stoic, to conduct herself as a shinobi. Numbness had enabled Kankuro to do the same. They had to look honorable in front of the villagers; they had to appear to be proper heirs to a kage. Secretly, Kankuro seethed against such restrictions, but no one had ever let him express his true self in public. The face paint was his only hint to the world, and only in battle could he expose his soul. He had to be stoic and tow the line now so he didn't get lectures about being a disgrace. Such lectures were the last things he needed.

Only vaguely did Kankuro register the fact they'd entered the hospital. White walls were a blur in his peripheral vision. Temari retained her hold on his elbow as they walked downstairs to the basement, where the morgue was.

Baki stopped outside the door and paused, his hand frozen on the handle. "Like I said, he was left exposed. The coroner promised me he would clean up Kazekage-sama as much as he could so you could be spared, but it might still be bad. Only one of you has to go in there. No one but I will know the difference, and I see no dishonor in it. Make sure you really want to go in before you do."

For a moment, none of them spoke. Baki had offered them an out, and that fact alone told Kankuro how bad it was. Kankuro felt even surer he would have nightmares, but he was also convinced that Baki and his siblings would think less of him if he didn't "act like a man" and go in.

"I have to see," Gaara said quietly.

Kankuro wondered at his motivation, knowing that Gaara both hated and feared their father. But despite Gaara's willingness to volunteer, Kankuro didn't think he could back down. "I'll go."

Temari was squeezing his arm so hard it hurt. "I'll go."

"As you wish." Baki slid open the door and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

Gaara marched in, seemingly resolute, and Kankuro followed, Temari glued to his side. He wasn't sure how she would react, given the odd dynamics of her relationship with their father. He sank himself as deeply into his numbness as he could, though.

Without pause, Gaara walked up to the table where their father was laid, standing right by his head. From his shoulders down, Yondaime Kazekage was covered in a white sheet, and bandages covered part of his face, as though the coroner wished to spare them as much pain as possible. Kankuro stepped at the foot of the table, unable to get any closer. All he could see was his father's bandaged chin, his bare nose, and a glimpse of his right eye and brow. Fortunately, the room smelled of lime and chemicals, and the tiny patch of skin Kankuro could see was still intact, if waxy and bloodless.

Gaara stared down at the man who'd repeatedly tried to kill him. His face was devoid of expression; he said nothing. After a moment, he teleported away.

Kankuro couldn't feel anything. The body on the table didn't look like his father. The body on the table wasn't his father. His father was a spirit abiding in the afterlife, not this shell. He'd been afraid to enter the room, but once confronted with the man under the sheet, he couldn't react at all.

Beside him, Temari burst into tears, her sobs harsh. Although she didn't release her hold on Kankuro, she began to sink to the floor, and she was accidentally dragging him with her. Instinctively, Kankuro turned and pulled her into his arms, kneeling to the floor. That was when his emotions hit him — suddenly, sharply — and crushed the numbness with their intensity. He sobbed with her, their cries echoing off the metal tables and storage units, and they clung to each other, two siblings alone in the world.

Until that moment, Kankuro had not realized he'd loved his father. Since they weren't close — his father was a stern man who worked long hours — Kankuro had assumed that he was merely tied to the man by blood and had no real feelings for him. Now, he realized he had in fact felt a silent, buried love for his dad, and hidden where no one could see it or know it, Kankuro had hoped he'd one day catch his dad's attention and build a stronger bond. That was no longer possible, and it hurt him to know there was nothing more he could ever say to the man. He cried just as much for the dad he'd never have as he did for the father he had lost.

Baki came to them, wrapping his arms around them with a tenderness he'd never before shown them, and stayed as they wept upon each other. To Kankuro, it felt as though life had stopped, literally making the entire world stand still, and all that existed was pain.

Only when the numbness returned did Kankuro collect himself and let Baki lead his sister and him away. But the body they left behind in the morgue was not his father. That person would not return. So Kankuro held his sister's hand as they wound their way back through the streets toward home, clinging to what little family he had left.

* * *

Kankuro stood in Gaara's hotel bedroom doorway, still fighting against his memories. His father's death had resulted in many things, and one of them was to reinforce Kankuro's determination to protect his siblings. He had always worried about them, always been the first to offer to stay behind and fight an opponent, but his desire to protect them had escalated to the point of near-obsession. He hid a great deal of it with silence, punk attitude, or offhand suggestions because he didn't want to smother them or make them feel like he didn't believe in them. But in truth he worried about them all the time.

Just like now.

"Gaara," he said softly, stepping into the elaborately decorated room, which reflected the country of Fire — crimson and gold. The hotel suite had a bedspread, rugs, chairs, and curtains that were all patterned in crimson and gold hues.

Gaara sat on the bed, staring at the floor. He'd changed into a simple black yukata after his bath, but he seemed to have slowed to zero momentum. He looked like a statue, glassy-eyed and motionless. Kankuro had seen puppets with more life and expression.

"Gaara," he repeated, just as softly. He crossed the room, his bare feet silent on the rug. Watching his brother's pain was almost as difficult for him as living through the pain firsthand.

"I can't feel anything," Gaara whispered. "Is that normal? I keep expecting the crushing pain to return, that — that searing agony. But it doesn't. I can't feel anything at all."

Sitting by his brother, Kankuro wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "That's normal. I experienced the same thing when Father died. And Granddad." He'd been closest to his maternal grandfather, the one who'd introduced him to the puppet jutsu and given him Karasu and Kuroari.

"It doesn't feel real." Gaara frowned. "I feel like it's silly for me to say this, but it really is like what people have described. I feel like I could go to sleep and wake up and find out it was just a nightmare. A sick nightmare."

Kankuro remembered the surreal nature of the first day or two. The feeling wasn't constant, but there would be moments where reality seemed fake, and he could almost step outside of his own mind into a different world in which his granddad was still alive. "I remember that feeling."

"It's wrong." Gaara's gaze never moved from the floor. "It's wrong. It shouldn't be this way. Naruto promised he wouldn't die until he became Hokage. He was supposed to fulfill his dream, just like I did. It shouldn't be this way."

In truth, Kankuro had no reply for that. In his experience, death was neither fair nor logical. People died too young; children died before parents. Shinobi served on hundreds of missions with only a few scars to show for it and then were killed in freak accidents inside their own homes. Even without the existence of jutsu like Edo Tensei and monsters like Shukaku, Kankuro had understood at an early age that universal forces of good and evil fought a battle in which his world, country, and village were a part. He had seen that evil up close every time Shukaku made an appearance, and he had realized that the deaths were victories by the enemy. At the same time, he also believed that the ultimate victory would not belong to evil. Gaara had overcome Shukaku, the Allied Forces had won the war, and the same would be true on the larger scale.

None of that could help Gaara at this moment, though.

"Could I have done something differently?" Gaara asked, his brow furrowing. "Should I have done something differently? Could Naruto have been saved?"

Those questions, though, Kankuro could answer. He shifted and captured Gaara's face in his hands, turning his head so their gazes would meet. "No. Naruto was the only one who could stop Sasuke — the only one who could even capture his attention at this point, and even still, he barely could. Tsunade-hime and several other top mednins all treated Naruto. If there was anything that could've been done, they would have done it. They did do it. It just wasn't enough. None of it is your fault."

"But — "

"No." Kankuro wasn't going to budge. "Don't fall into that trap. Almost everyone thinks there was something they could have done to save their loved one. They think it's somehow their fault. I even thought I'd killed Granddad because I was in charge of giving him his medication that night, but since he was asleep, I didn't want to wake him up. I gave him his pills two hours late. But the truth is it didn't make any difference. The cancer had eaten up his entire body. If he hadn't taken his medicine at all it would've made no difference." Kankuro remembered that experience well. He'd become nearly hysterical eight or nine hours after his granddad's death, convinced he'd somehow killed him, and his father had asked him what was wrong. When he'd told his father, he'd expected to be verbally slapped for being so stupid because part of him knew he was being illogical. His father, though, had taken his concerns quite seriously and even pondered whether Kankuro was responsible before explaining to him why he couldn't be. That performance — and Kankuro was now convinced his father never considered even for a moment that he was guilty — had silenced his fears utterly. His father had taken him seriously before absolving him and then had revealed to him that many people fell into the same trap.

Belatedly, Kankuro realized he hadn't quite done the same for Gaara. "Well, okay. Let's just take this one step at a time and analyze it. You tell me what you think you did wrong, and we'll consider it."

Gaara's eyes widened a fraction, but he seemed to relax. "All right. I'll start at the point Naruto discovered Sasuke was on the battlefield."

For an hour, Kankuro listened to his brother break down the sequence of events, the conversations, the battles. For an hour, he helped Gaara analyze each piece, pointing out the illogic of the lies that tried to creep in and steal his brother's sanity. For an hour, he took everything Gaara said with a pretend seriousness that was one hundred percent sincere in its gravity, if not its belief in Gaara's guilt.

Finally, Gaara ran out of arguments. "I see," he whispered, admitting defeat at last. "Everyone falls into this trap?"

"A lot of people, yeah." Kankuro felt a great deal of relief that Gaara had allowed him to help him process that piece. Gaara wasn't reacting to the physical affection or the external attempts at comfort, but at least he hadn't completely shut him out. So far, Naruto was the only one from whom Gaara had accepted physical comfort and the only one to whom Gaara had shown it. Had he not seen Gaara clasp Naruto's shoulder in an attempt to reassure him, Kankuro wouldn't have believed his brother capable of it.

For a horrible moment, Kankuro wondered how long he would come in second or third place to Naruto's ghost.

Gaara sighed. "I feel numb again." His shoulders slumped. "These next few days will not be easy. Given what Naruto did for all of us, I suspect there will be a special ceremony for him that's separate from the mass memorial for all the other fallen Konoha shinobi."

"No doubt." Kankuro was well aware that Naruto had basically saved the world. Everyone had played a part, and everyone had done their duty. But in the end, Naruto had carried a larger burden than even the kages had.

"I'm not looking forward to attending that memorial." Gaara shifted and curled up on his bed.

Despite those words, Kankuro knew his brother couldn't be stopped from attending. Gaara would see to that before he even travelled back to Suna to officiate the mass memorial service there. Somehow Kankuro had to get his brother through that funeral.

"I'll stay by your side," Kankuro whispered. "Temari and me both." It was all he could say, and it was all he could do.

He just hoped it was enough.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to all who read, review, fave, and follow._


	2. The Funeral

_A/N: I mixed Japanese and American funeral rites with totally fictional details here. I did that because Naruto is ultimately a fantasy world._

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Funeral**

Staring up at the Hokage Monument, Gaara inhaled slowly. "I'm not sure I can do this. But I have to."

The siblings stood at the base of the staircase carved into the mountainside, with Kankuro taking position at Gaara's right side and Temari at his left. All three were dressed in black kimono that had been loaned to them for their attendance to Naruto's memorial service. Kankuro was not looking forward to watching his brother suffer through the memorial, but he knew that Gaara needed to attend for both emotional and political reasons. And so he was determined to get his brother through the ordeal.

"We'll be at your side," Temari said quietly.

Gaara nodded once, then seemed to steel himself. "All right. Let's go."

They joined the sedate procession of shinobi headed to the area atop the monument where the memorial would take place. The Hokage had considered it the perfect spot for Naruto's service, and Kankuro had to agree. Only the kages and Naruto's friends were allowed to attend; the larger population of Konoha shinobi and some Allied shinobi had gathered at the base of the monument instead. There simply wasn't enough room for everyone who wished to attend, so everyone else stood vigil below and held incense, lighters, or candles. The glow was the only bright spot in the otherwise overcast, grey afternoon.

"The outpouring of love and honor here is amazing," Temari said. "I wonder if Naruto would've guessed just how many people would come."

"No." Gaara frowned as they climbed the stairs. "I wouldn't have guessed the number of Suna shinobi who came to rescue me or welcomed me home. Jinchuuriki . . . just can't comprehend this. Not easily."

It was a memory Kankuro shied away from. For a few minutes, he had thought he'd lost his brother, whom he counted as tied with his sister and granddad as the most precious person in the world. The eternity in which he'd waited to see if Chiyo's jutsu would work had been so painful that sometimes he thought he'd left a piece of himself standing there, forever trapped in that moment where he watched the energy enter his brother's corpse and prayed it would be enough to restore him. It hurt to be reminded of that moment, and it hurt even more to remember the time during which Gaara believed no one loved him.

Kankuro had never been able to tell him that it wasn't true and never had been. He had always loved Gaara, because for him, the issue had always been one of fear, not hate. And although fear could morph into hate, in Kankuro's case, it hadn't. He had secretly wanted his ototo; he'd simply been too afraid to reach out.

Unable to speak in the face of that pain, Kankuro simply squeezed Gaara's shoulder, offering silent support. As usual, Gaara didn't react. Once again, Kankuro had to wonder if he could really offer the level of support Gaara needed or if the person Gaara most relied on — had most invested in — was Naruto. The thought made Kankuro ache, but all he could do was hope he could fill part of that void.

"Well," Temari said at length, "he deserves every bit of it."

Gaara nodded. "And more. I only wish I'd been able to save him the way he saved me."

Kankuro cringed, but they'd reached the top of the stairs, so he didn't reply. They joined the line of people waiting to light incense and give condolences to Team Kakashi, who was standing in as Naruto's family. Several Konoha shinobi, as well as the other kage, came up to Gaara as he waited in line and offered their condolences to him. He accepted their gestures politely, although he said little in return. Kankuro had no idea what to do other than hover at Gaara's side, much like Temari did.

Once they'd lit incense and prayed, Kankuro and his siblings took their seats among the mass of metal folding chairs that had been set up in front of the altar. When the invited guests had cycled through the line, a priest chanted a sutra, and then Tsunade stood up to speak.

"I doubt Naruto would have wanted an entirely traditional service," she remarked. "Truth be told, he probably would've preferred we throw a party."

A few murmurs of agreement passed through the crowd.

"I think it's a good idea, so there'll be a reception tonight in the civic center. All you who have been invited to the memorial service are welcome to attend." Tsunade paused and glanced over the crowd. "However, what I want to do now is invite a few of you to speak about Naruto. I think he would've liked that, too. I'll begin, and Hatake Kakashi will follow. Then Haruno Sakura, Umino Iruka, Killer B, and finally, the Kazekage."

Gaara straightened in his chair, and Kankuro realized this was the first he'd heard of it. Still, Kankuro appreciated that Tsunade was giving Gaara the chance. At the same time, he had a sinking feeling; with that many people speaking, the memorial service was likely to drag on forever. He wanted to be respectful, but he also saw no need to prolong the suffering.

"When I first met Uzamaki Naruto," Tsunade began, "I had no intention of ever becoming Hokage. In truth, I — "

Tuning out the words, Kankuro watched Gaara as the Hokage spoke, wondering how he would handle speaking about his best friend during his funeral. The death of a loved one was not something Gaara had ever faced. Since he hadn't been close to his own family, Gaara hadn't grieved the deaths of their grandparents and father, and given the circumstances surrounding their uncle's death, Gaara hadn't exactly mourned him, either. The only person whose death had haunted Gaara in that way was their mother, and even that had become needlessly complicated.

Having finished her speech, Tsunade sat down, and Kakashi stood. He gazed out over the crowd, and when he spoke, his tone was grave. "There is much I could say about Naruto, but when faced with this moment, I can find only the fewest of words, which would be that — "

Temari glanced at Gaara and patted his knee. "Did you know you would be speaking?" she whispered.

Gaara shook his head. "It won't be a problem," he whispered back.

Kankuro's attention returned to Kakashi when Gai stood and followed him out. Apparently Kakashi was done speaking already and was also departing. Just as obviously, Gai was making sure he didn't remain alone.

When Sakura stood, Sai followed her up. She stared at the podium for a long moment, then seemed to collect herself. "The thing I'll always remember about Naruto was the way he seemed to turn people around," she began, her voice shaky. Sai stood silently by her side, seeming to act almost like her bodyguard.

Gaara exhaled heavily at hearing her words. "Indeed."

Kankuro began to wonder if he should accompany Gaara as well, if for no other reason than as his bodyguard. He wondered if Gaara would prefer to have someone at his side for this. However, he knew well that Gaara would never ask even if he did. Should Kankuro just make the assumption and act on it? If questioned, he could defend himself with the concept of serving as bodyguard. No one could really argue with that. Mostly, though, he simply wished Gaara would want him to be there for him.

Stopping abruptly, Sakura left the podium, Sai following her. Kankuro hadn't been listening, but he suspected she'd had to stop or risk crying. Iruka stood and headed up in her place. Kankuro wasn't sure who this guy was or what relation he had to Naruto, but he could tell by the man's posture that he was crushed. Apparently Killer B came to the same conclusion; he stood and joined the man.

Iruka nodded to his impromptu escort and took a deep breath. "To me, Naruto was more of an ototo."

Suddenly understanding why the man was upset, Kankuro hastily tuned out his words. Once more he saw the image of his brother's dead body laid out on the grass. Trying to distract himself and still wondering what to do, he leaned over and whispered to Gaara. "I should go up with you."

Gaara glanced at him, but he neither argued nor agreed.

"As your bodyguard," Kankuro quickly supplied.

A simple nod was the only reply.

For a moment, Kankuro felt trapped in despair. As grateful as he was to Naruto for inspiring Gaara to change his life, he occasionally felt invisible next to Naruto's iconic place in Gaara's mind. What was worse, that idolization didn't bode well for Gaara's ability to cope with the loss.

Iruka stepped aside, letting Killer B take the mic. "I didn't know Naruto for very long, and I can't believe that he's gone. We shared a similar plight, and we had quite a fight."

Kankuro raised an eyebrow, stunned that this guy was going to rhyme his way through an entire tribute. He wasn't sure whether he could listen to it or not. Several chairs down from them, the Raikage rubbed his nose with his fingers in obvious exasperation.

Beside him, Gaara squeezed his hands into fists. Since Gaara never indicated that public speaking bothered him, it was a sure sign he was upset. Kankuro decided no one could stop him from accompanying him, including Gaara himself.

As soon as Killer B finished, Gaara stood and made his way to the podium. Kankuro stood, nodding to his sister to indicate he had it covered, and followed him up. On one hand, he felt distinctly out of place; on the other hand, he knew he had to support his little brother. _If I can,_ he thought, depressed.

Gaara remained quiet for a moment much like Kakashi had, looking out over the crowd. "Uzamaki Naruto had the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met," he began solemnly. "He could befriend almost anyone, even in spite of themselves, and he had great compassion for anyone who had suffered loneliness and pain. It was an aloneness he understood too well, a pain he had lived with every day of his life. But he never let that anguish consume him. He fought it."

Kankuro listened to the speech knowing that Gaara felt that he had originally failed; however, he also knew that their stories weren't perfectly parallel. For many years, Gaara had been separated from Temari and him and reared like an only child, which might be similar, but unlike Naruto, he hadn't even been allowed to enter the academy until he was nine. What was more, Gaara had been psychologically tortured by their uncle's lies, and their father had also tried to assassinate him six times. These were not things Naruto had faced. Kankuro felt his brother was being too hard on himself.

"Most everyone here knows that Naruto saved my life," Gaara continued, his voice quiet but steady. "He saved it on every level possible: not just my physical life, but also my sanity, my destiny, my worldview, and my heart. That is not a debt easily honored or repaid."

Internally, Kankuro flinched. In an odd way, he felt as though he were being permanently punished for his early failure to be a nii-san. When Gaara was six, he'd finally been brought home to the main house, but by that time, he had descended into insanity and violence. Kankuro and Temari had been terrified of him, and he'd shown them nothing but hate. Kankuro hadn't known what to do, and Gaara had resisted his feeble efforts. Without Naruto, Kankuro was sure Gaara would still be resisting him, but being constantly reminded of that hurt.

"Many people share that debt with me." Gaara glanced over the crowd. "Like me, you experienced Naruto's inexplicable ability to alter your beliefs and change your life. In short, you could say that Naruto made the world a better place one person at a time. During the war, he made the world a better and safer place for all of us. But in the end, the only thing I really want to say is this: Uzamaki Naruto was my friend, and I'll always miss him."

Gaara turned and headed back to his seat, and Kankuro followed close behind, thankful that the torture was nearly over. He wanted to get his little brother away from the oppressive grief and sounds of crying, away from all the reminders of death and mourning. Kankuro hadn't endured such a soul-numbing funeral since their father's, but at least in that case, Gaara hadn't been mourning the one dead.

Then again, as Kankuro remembered it, their father's funeral hadn't been pleasant for any of them.

* * *

Yondaime Kazekage's wake was scheduled for 8 PM. At 7:00, Kankuro descended the stairs wearing a black kimono and haori jacket with five kamon printed upon it, the kamon being his family crest, which was a circle containing swirls like wind. His hakama pants were black- and white-striped, and his outfit was completed by a black obi and pristine white tabi socks. His face was free of paint, which made him feel vaguely half-naked. It wasn't the first time he'd worn a mofuku kimono though, the most recent time being his paternal grandmother's death a year earlier. Fortunately, he hadn't outgrown his clothes yet.

Temari awaited him at the bottom of the stairs, her mofuku and accessories being those she'd inherited from their maternal grandmother. Her face was ashen despite a touch of makeup, and she tightly clutched a small, black fan. Kankuro walked over to her and squeezed her arm gently. Although they usually gave each other a hard time, they had set aside their daily razzing in the face of their pain, and Temari had confided that she was haunted by the sheer amount of unfinished business and unspoken words between her father and her. Kankuro could understand her sentiments.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

"As I'm going to get," she replied drily.

With that established, Kankuro found the only person unaccounted for was Gaara. He wasn't sure Gaara would attend the funeral since he had such an explosive and negative relationship with their father. With Gaara, one could never be sure. In some ways, he spouted the typical village rhetoric about duty and honor, making him quite conservative. Even his speech was often overly formal and unlike other kids his age. Kankuro assumed their father had trained that mindset into him, hoping he would fall in line with his "duty" as a jinchuuriki to protect the village with Shukaku's overwhelming power. However, in other ways, Gaara was a total social outcast and rebel, indifferent to social customs or occasionally unaware of them. If he skipped his own father's funeral, the villagers would simply chalk it up to his identity as a monster and pariah.

Yet, as Kankuro and Temari stepped into the foyer and slipped on their formal zori, the door slid open and Baki entered with Gaara in tow. To Kankuro's surprise, Gaara wore a fine silk kimono and haori, complete with black- and grey-striped hakama, snowy-white tabi, and matching vinyl zori. The outfit certainly was new; Gaara had never attended any of the previous family funerals. He'd never attended a wake or funeral for anyone.

Temari recovered first. "You look very nice, Gaara."

Given the quality of the kimono, Kankuro knew the outfit had to have cost more than Baki's yearly income, and he wondered where it had come from. "Yeah, nice, _jan._"

Baki seemed to sense his question. "It was my ototo's when we were children, and my father's before that. It's the best I could do on short notice, and it seems to fit Gaara fairly well. But the kamon are wrong, of course."

Given how expensive kimono could be, especially with all their accessories, second-hand kimono were normal, so Kankuro didn't find it odd. However, since Gaara had been mostly rejected by their father, it seemed horribly ironic that his mofuku had the wrong family crest. Still, despite the faux pas of the kamon, Kankuro could only feel grateful that Baki was willing to share. "Thank you very much." Probably to his siblings' shock, he not only used polite speech but also bowed to his sensei.

"You're quite welcome, although it's nothing." Baki slid the door back open. "Shall we? We're late as it is."

Kankuro nodded, and Temari linked her arm in his. When they stepped outside, Kankuro considered Gaara, who stood three feet apart from them. Alone. Outside of the family. Bearing the wrong family crest.

It's not right. The thought almost burst into words, almost escaped Kankuro's lips before he could stop it. In Kankuro's mind, they were all children of the same mother and father; they were all part of the same family. Their father's choice to rear Gaara in a separate household with a separate guardian didn't change that. Their father's assessment that Gaara was a useless liability didn't change that. All the pain and fear and rage that had passed between their father, their uncle, Gaara, Temari, and him couldn't change that. And suddenly, in the face of their father's violent and untimely death, the entire situation seemed ludicrous.

Gaara had glanced Kankuro's way, apparently feeling the weight of his stare. Taking a gigantic chance, Kankuro stuck out his other elbow, signaling to Gaara that he was included and equal. A long pause followed in which Gaara stared expressionlessly at said elbow, then he stepped over and pinched the kimono sleeve between his forefinger and thumb. Gently, Kankuro extracted his other arm from Temari and took Gaara's hand in his, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. Gaara silently stared at him, his eyes wide with shock, and Kankuro presented his arm back to Temari, who gave him a small smile of approval.

"We're ready," Temari told Baki, who had watched this ritual closely.

Baki nodded. "Let's go."

Once again, the siblings followed Baki through Suna's streets, and once again, the villagers had lined the streets, some holding candles, others incense, and others colored rocks. Flowers were a rare commodity in Suna, so colored rocks and gems inlaid with fancy designs were placed on tombs instead. Kankuro appreciated their show of grief and solidarity, but mostly he felt overwhelmed — a problem exacerbated by his being responsible for planning his father's funeral, which he was in charge of by right of being the eldest son.

_This village has so many problems,_ Kankuro thought, caught between despair and frustration. _It's not just the funeral. Baki helped me with that. No, there're so many plans, decisions, issues . . . all this shit I never used to have to think about. Hell, I'm only 14. Can I ever get my old life back?_ The thought seemed selfish, but he couldn't help it. His emotions began fluctuating wildly, jumping from despair to anger to guilt, and he set them aside, trying to appear stoic and honorable for the thousands of mourning villagers they passed in the streets on their way to the funeral hall.

"Such a turnout," Temari said, her grip on Kankuro's elbow growing tighter. The closer they got to the funeral hall, the tenser she became.

"Is their grief real?" Gaara muttered, frowning.

Given how many people began whispering when they saw Gaara, Kankuro suspected his brother was getting irritated. "Hard to say," he admitted, tucking his arm closer to his side and making Gaara step closer to him. Gaara glanced up at him, his expression unreadable, but Kankuro gave him a tiny smile of reassurance. He expected Gaara to jerk away from him in response, but to his relief, he didn't. Somehow, it felt oddly right to have both of his siblings at his side like a normal family.

Despite using the largest funeral hall in the village, they had more people than could easily be accommodated, and so Baki had to yell out and command the crowd to part for them. Once a path was cleared, Kankuro and his siblings were escorted in the building, where two of their second cousins had been keeping watch over their father's body while Kankuro and Temari performed their personal ceremonial bathing process at home. The process was meant to purify their bodies prior to the wake and supposedly prevent them, as their father's guards, from carrying evil spirits into the funeral hall. Although Kankuro wasn't a firm believer in the reasons for the rituals, he did hope Baki had insisted that Gaara carry out the same bath.

With a wave of unease, Kankuro realized he'd arrived at the moment he most didn't want to face: seeing his father's body again. He wasn't sure what the mortician had done to help the condition of the body, but being a desert community that usually performed burials rather than cremations, they did practice embalming. The mortician would have done his best to preserve what was left of the body and fix its appearance. Kankuro paused at the end of the aisle, taking in the multi-tiered altar, which was decorated with countless gems and stones, and the casket in front of it. Because they were each holding onto him, Temari and Gaara paused with him.

Temari seemed to sense his distress. "We'll all go up together," she whispered.

"It's not him," Gaara added bluntly.

Surprised to hear his brother's brusque assessment, although he did agree with it, Kankuro forced himself to move forward. He stopped at the table in front of the casket and bowed, although he ignored the incense and instead gazed at his father. Kankuro had chosen to have his father buried in his Kazekage kimono, which had enabled them to use the traditional half-veil to cover most of his face. The upper half of his face had been reconstructed by fitting a mirror in the casket to reflect the "good" side of his face and create a double image. Kankuro could tell a great deal of makeup had been used as well.

"He doesn't look natural," Gaara noted, still blunt.

Kankuro wasn't sure whether he was going to cry or whether he was going to have to swallow a highly inappropriate snort of laughter. His father had always detested the use of the phrase "He looks so natural!" In truth, the man in the coffin didn't look like his father at all, but seeing this representation of his father underscored his death. The world blurred as tears collected in Kankuro's eyes, and he tried to distract himself by lighting a stick of incense and sticking it in the waiting incense urn.

"We're lucky he looks even this good," Temari agreed, her voice strained. She followed by lighting a second stick, and her hand shook as she stuck it in the sand.

With horror, Kankuro realized both Temari and he were going to lose it, and the entire council plus their sensei were standing only a few feet behind them, although no one else had been allowed in yet. He felt his tears escape, and he heard Temari sniffling. A gentle tug on his left arm redirected him, and Gaara pulled him away from the altar and casket, the action forcing Temari to follow as well.

"Sit." Gaara positioned Kankuro in front of the chairs for the family.

Kankuro sat, Temari joining him. They leaned into each other, and Temari repositioned her hand so they could hold hands, each of them squeezing the other tightly. Kankuro's impending breakdown was staved off, however, by the sight of Gaara returning to light a stick of incense. Although Kankuro had forgotten to pray and suspected Temari had too, Gaara bowed his head and closed his eyes. Shocked, Kankuro wondered why Gaara had chosen to show their father any respect at all or what he could have possibly prayed.

From that point forward, the process became a mind-numbing blur of condolences, sutras, chanting, incense, and prayers. Kankuro found the entire process to be both painful and boring, and for hours he sat in his chair while distant relatives, council members, and friends paraded past. By the time the priest finished the sutra and everyone left, Kankuro thought he might go insane. He'd also grown hot in all the layers of his outfit and wanted to shed both the haori jacket and the hakama pants.

Baki was the last person to leave. "Do you want me to keep vigil with you?" he asked, hovering by the casket.

"We're good," Temari said, sounding as tired as Kankuro did. "Please go get some sleep."

"Yeah, it's okay. We can handle it alone," Kankuro added, his introverted nature having been overpowered by the sheer number of mourners. In truth, he wanted to be completely alone. "Thanks again for helping get this all set up."

Baki bowed to them and departed, and Kankuro turned to his siblings. "We have some seriously stupid funeral customs. Is this really supposed to provide us closure? It's just torture." He paused, wondering if this would be one of the times his siblings told him to shut up. There was nothing in the process that really helped Kankuro, though, and he questioned what he was supposed to be getting out of it.

"I'm exhausted," Temari agreed. "Father wasn't particularly all that fussy, either. If it's supposed to pacify his spirit, then I can't imagine it's really what he'd want. He was too practical for all this, although he'd bow to the traditions."

Gaara shrugged, his voice flat. "It's about honoring the dead."

Wondering if Gaara would stay, Kankuro watched him briefly. He was surprised his brother had lasted this long, especially since several of the mourners had stammered through their condolences when they'd seen Gaara was present. Even their second and third cousins had given them wide berth.

Gaara apparently sensed his curiosity. "Do you wish for me to leave?"

"Nah, man." For a moment, Kankuro was struck with the irony that their job was to keep vigil so that evil spirits and monsters couldn't steal their father's soul, but there was a monster standing in the room with them right then: Shukaku. And the reason there was a monster in the room was because their father had chosen to put him there by sealing him into his son. Once again Kankuro felt the inappropriate urge to laugh, this time caustically.

"Why not?" Gaara gestured at the empty hall. "No one wanted me here tonight. No one expected me to be here, and they were scared to see me. After all, without _him_, there's no one to stop me if Shukaku goes on the rampage. Without _him_, they're fucked."

It was the most Gaara had said since returning from Konoha. Unfortunately, he was also getting irritable. Kankuro, though, didn't have enough emotional or spiritual energy left to get scared. In fact, his entire world had been narrowed down to his siblings — his final two close family members — and his need to protect them and keep them alive. Fearing that his family would simply vanish and leave him utterly alone in the world, Kankuro found that some things that had mattered before didn't matter now. He stepped toward his brother, trying to find the words to say.

"Gaara . . .," Temari said, her voice soothing, "_we_ wanted you here tonight,"

But Gaara wasn't listening. "_He_ wouldn't have wanted me here, either." His voice was rising with each sentence, his cheeks flushing with pain and anger. "To him, I was a failure, a burden, a liability to be erased."

Temari stared at the floor. She couldn't argue that. No one could.

Kankuro closed the gap between his brother and him. "But he's gone now." He reached out, wondering if he dared to touch Gaara, who suddenly seemed made of glass and easily breakable.

Growling, Gaara slapped his hand away and stepped back. "Is he? Will they really stop trying to assassinate me now? Or will they just try harder? This is not the future I want. I want to — I want to — " He grasped his head in his hands, pressing hard against his temples. "If I died, there would be no funeral. They wouldn't even bury me except for the fear I'd haunt them if they didn't. They'd like to toss me out into the sand for hyenas to eat, and if they did, no one would give a shit!"

With sudden insight, Kankuro realized that Gaara was coughing up a piece of his heart. The boy who never talked to him, never confided in him, never let him see inside of him, was inadvertently opening up in the midst of his tirade. As much as it hurt to be literally slapped away, Kankuro felt his spirit rise to the challenge, although it burnt up what little energy he had left. "_I_ would care. I know you don't see me as anything other than a teammate — and an unwanted teammate at that — but if you die for any reason whatsoever, then they better give you a funeral and bury you properly or I'll fucking kill them _all_."

Silence.

Kankuro stood frozen in place, his fists clenched and the burning rage in his voice — the absolute conviction of his feelings — hanging in the room. It wasn't a performance. The power of the truth made Kankuro's stomach tremble in his gut and new tears sting his eyes. He was going to make damn sure his brother lived; he was going to protect him. But if he failed, then he wouldn't also fail to see his ototo taken care of. He wouldn't let his body be treated in such a vulgar way.

Slowly, Gaara lowered his hands from his head and stared at his brother. The pain and anger had bled from his face, leaving only wide-eyed shock in its place. "Why?"

With sudden, simple clarity, Kankuro had his answer. Just like he hadn't been sure he loved his father until he'd died, he hadn't been sure he felt love for his brother, either. He knew something bound them together, but he'd been convinced it was the mystical force of blood or something of the like. However, the truth was simpler: love. The bond between them was bent and incomplete, but despite the fear lacing it, it was love.

It wasn't an answer Gaara could accept.

Kankuro reached inside himself, trying to quickly generate a second answer, and he realized he had one. "I don't want to die alone with no one to care I'm gone." Now that his father was dead as well, that possibility seemed far more likely to Kankuro. "I don't want it to happen to Temari; I don't want it to happen to you. And there are only three of us left." Three seemed like such a tiny number. "If I died and you didn't care, there would only be Temari to bury me and mourn me. If Temari died and you didn't care, there would be only me to bury her and mourn her. We aren't married; we don't have kids of our own. Who would even care? Who would inherit Karasu or our jutsu? Our legacy would stop. I just can't — " He realized with horror he was going to cry again; his vision was growing blurry. "I just can't face that thought. We're all we have left. I can't just let you fade away like you never existed. I can't just let you stop."

Rushing over, Temari pulled him into her arms. "It won't end that way," she whispered, but then they were both crying — crying because their father was dead, crying because almost their entire family was dead, and even crying for Gaara, whose pain they'd caught a small glimpse of by staring straight into death's face.

Once they'd collected themselves, Kankuro glanced back at Gaara, expecting to find nothing but empty space. Gaara had never stayed around for either emotional displays or for extended discussions of his situation. And yet, to his surprise, his brother had remained. He was sitting on the floor right where he'd been standing, almost as though his legs had collapsed. Worried, Kankuro released Temari and walked over to him, kneeling in front of him. He wished desperately that he could hug him, that he could extend the bond he had with Temari to Gaara. However, he'd already been slapped away once; he wouldn't risk it twice.

"You okay?" he finally asked.

Gaara shook his head no, but he didn't speak. Kankuro remembered belatedly what he'd overheard Gaara say once: _"I don't want to cease to exist."_

"I won't let you just stop," Kankuro repeated more quietly. The fear that any of them might be tossed aside and forgotten like the orphans they were had made him fearless before Gaara. "I won't let you be swept away like grains of sand. If you die before I do, I'll keep your picture on the family altar. I'll burn incense for you. I don't care that you don't consider me your brother."

As though he could neither move nor speak, Gaara remained collapsed where he sat, looking stunned. Kankuro was trying to figure out what to do when he felt the most absolute sense of presence, as if his father were standing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, but of course he found no one. He wondered what it meant.

For the rest of the night, the siblings kept vigil, none of them sleeping as they waited for the morning and the funeral.

* * *

Midnight arrived. Gaara departed from Naruto's wake — the party Tsunade had promised. Sake had been provided in abundance, although half of the people present were underage. Blind eyes had been turned to those chuunin who had sneaked a drink, and as a result, the party had spiraled out of control as the night grew long. Kankuro, who had been known to cheat on similar occasions, had refrained; therefore, he noticed when Gaara slipped out. Taking his roles as bodyguard and nii-san seriously, Kankuro had located Temari, who was consoling Shikamaru and his friends, and told her he was following Gaara back to their hotel. She seemed torn about what to do, but Kankuro had assured her he would take care of their brother. With practiced stealth, he then slipped into the street, following Gaara at a distance.

The music, shouting, and singing from the party, which had mushroomed into a general wake for all those lost, drifted into the night air. Paper lanterns glowed in vendor's booths, windows, and doorways, bathing the road in red, blue, and yellow light. Had Kankuro not known better, the atmosphere would have been closer to a festival, and the fact they had won the war could not be ignored. Sounds of genuine celebration floated from several restaurants he passed, along with the smells of fried meat and dumplings.

Gaara, though, had shown no signs of happiness or relief. Even now, his shoulders were slumped. Kankuro observed him carefully, knowing that the other kages and Killer B had asked him to share a toast to Naruto. No one cared that Gaara fell four years short of being able to imbibe sake legally. Tsunade had explicitly waved Konoha's law for him when she offered him the cup, and being outside of Suna's borders, Gaara had technically not been bound to their law. So he had accepted the cup — not once or even twice, but three times: once for the formal toast to begin the party, once with the Hokage and Tsuchikage, and once with the Raikage and Killer B. As a result, Kankuro was deeply impressed that Gaara was walking in a straight line.

After a minute, Gaara halted in the street and stood still. Kankuro quickened his pace, catching up with him.

As his brother reached him, Gaara stared up at him listlessly. "I knew it was you. I could feel your chakra."

Kankuro took in his brother's glazed eyes and was even more impressed he could walk straight. "I wouldn't bother to hide from you."

"I feel nauseated. And hot. And weird." Gaara's voice was louder than usual.

"Is that why you left?" Kankuro gently took his elbow and resumed walking, heading toward their hotel.

Gaara nodded; the motion was somewhat exaggerated. "Sake tastes like Temari's fingernail polish remover. Except hot."

A small smile lifted the corners of Kankuro's mouth. "And how do we know this?"

"Smells like it."

Kankuro wasn't sure he could argue that. "I think you're drunk. Good thing I'm here to take care of you, huh?" He'd never been drunk himself, but he had several older friends he'd had to haul home after missions-gone-wrong.

As usual, Gaara didn't reply; Kankuro swallowed a sigh.

"So, what's next?" Gaara asked abruptly. "Anger?"

For a moment, Kankuro wasn't sure what he meant. "You mean the stages of grief?" He shook his head. "There's really no such thing. People don't always experience all the emotions of the so-called stages, and they don't always experience them in any kind of order. Some people never feel anger. Some people feel almost nothing but anger. Just give yourself permission to feel what you need to feel without drowning in it."

Gaara remained quiet for a moment. "Easier if stages." He stumbled faintly, leaning into his brother's grasp as he did.

"I suppose so," Kankuro admitted. "But Gaara . . . you just need to give yourself time and take care of yourself." He gestured down the length of Gaara's body. "Not like this, though."

"Did it for the toasts," Gaara pointed out. He paused, then shrugged one shoulder. "Got me through the wake. Can't feel anything."

"Can't hardly walk, either," Kankuro chimed in, matching his brother's curt, if slurred, speech. "Just wait 'til you wake up in the morning. The amazing headache and lingering nausea will make up your mind for you."

Gaara grunted but didn't argue. "Nii-san?"

Kankuro halted just as abruptly as Gaara had earlier. "Yeah?" Gaara never called him by anything other than his name.

"Dizzy."

"No more sake for you. As in, ever." Kankuro wasn't sure he was teasing. He stepped in front of Gaara, hunched down, and extended his arms. "Piggyback ride time. Just don't puke on me, _jan_. I'll kick your ass, I swear."

After a pause, Gaara slumped onto his back, and Kankuro used his chakra strings to get his brother in place and secure him. Fortunately, there really wasn't anyone around to witness this less-than-dignified carrying of the Kazekage; everyone else seemed to be packed into some party or another. Kankuro took advantage of that fact, vaulting from the street to the nearest balcony, then onto a roof. Leaning his head against his brother's shoulder, Gaara groaned faintly but otherwise didn't complain.

A three-minute sprint brought them to their hotel, and since their room was on the top floor, Kankuro jumped to their balcony. He set Gaara back down, disarmed the traps he'd set up earlier that evening, then guided his brother into the room.

"Sick," Gaara announced.

Kankuro did what he'd done for his best friend on several occasions: got him to the bathroom, and after a few minutes of vast unpleasantness, transferred him to the bed. Gaara flopped down unceremoniously, curling up on his side, and Kankuro settled on the mattress beside him, watching his flushed face. _At least he's not an emotional drunk,_ Kankuro noted, hiding his shock that he had found out what kind of drunk Gaara made at all. His brother had spent the first fifteen years of his life struggling to control a bijuu that acted drunk; it seemed both ironic and painful that in his sixteenth year, he would recreate the behavior on his own.

Then again, grief occasionally did strange things to people.

"Are you worried?" Gaara asked, twisting onto his back and staring up at him.

"Of course. Why?" It seemed an odd question.

"You said you'd always worry about your ototo." Gaara rolled back onto his side; his loose movements seemed more like those of a ragdoll.

Kankuro reached out and squeezed his arm, surprised his brother remembered what he'd said the day he'd been revived. "And I will. Always." He paused, hurting for a reason he couldn't articulate. "So don't push me away, okay? My best friend pushed me away when his dad was killed on a mission. I knew what it was like to lose a father, but he still wouldn't let me in. Don't do that to me, dammit."

Given the way Gaara was staring blankly at the wall, he didn't seem to be listening. However, he inhaled slowly and then spoke. "I won't." He closed his eyes. "Don't ever want to be alone again."

Feeling more like a father than a brother in that moment, Kankuro reached up and brushed Gaara's bangs back from his hot forehead. "No problem, man."

Gaara didn't pull away from the touch. "Stay with me?"

"Sure." Hearing those words, Kankuro knew nothing would pry him from Gaara's side.

Nothing.

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_A/N: Thank you to Anonymous, Mystical Sand, InoShikaChou, and SunaKunoichi18 for their reviews! Thank you to everyone who reviews, favs, or follows!_


	3. Happily Ever After?

_A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers; I really appreciate the feedback. Also, thank you for the faves and follows!_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Happily Ever After?**

When Kankuro awakened in the morning, he found that Gaara was already gone. Disturbed that he'd managed to sleep through Gaara's getting ready, even if his brother had done so stealthily, Kankuro quickly got himself ready as well. He was worried about his brother's condition.

He went the only place he could imagine Gaara being: Naruto's grave.

Sure enough, he found Gaara kneeling at the fresh gravesite. White carnations had been placed on the compacted dirt.

"Ototo . . ." Kankuro found he wasn't sure what to say. "I know you miss Naruto, but I don't want you to make yourself sick with grief."

Gaara's face was impassive as he looked up at his brother. "I am not," he promised. "I'm merely thinking."

"About?" Kankuro prompted. He noticed Gaara's eyes were bloodshot and wondered how bad his hangover was.

Gaara paused and glanced back at Naruto's grave. "When I got up this morning, I had to ask myself a hard question: who am I mourning? I called Naruto my friend, and he certainly went out of his way to save me when Akatsuki abducted me. Likewise, I worked hard to protect him when the war broke out. But that defines the parameters of our relationship as 'Will save in a crisis.' That's a kind of friend, sure. It's a specific type of friendship. But when I mourn, who I am mourning?"

Kankuro thought that was a wise question. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to find Gaara philosophizing his way through his pain. Gaara always had been deep-thinking and philosophical.

"Then I thought," Gaara continued, "'Maybe I'm mourning what could have been.' In my life, I've only interacted with Naruto directly five times — and two of those times were entirely negative — but because of the inspiration I took from him and his life, I felt closer to him than that. But let's face it: with both of us being kages, I would have only been able to see Naruto during the chuunin exams and whatever occasional meetings official business caused. No deep relationship would have formed. I would have simply admired him from afar, just like before."

Although he didn't interrupt the flow of Gaara's thoughts, Kankuro did nod. It was true; Gaara and Naruto had not been destined to see each other often or for long periods of time. At best, they would have had what Suna called a tea table relationship — a friendship where acquaintances met and talked over tea once every few months.

"Then I came to a conclusion: I'm selling myself short," Gaara said. "As much as it hurts to lose the shinobi I've been idolizing, the truth is that the strongest bonds I have are with the people closest to me. And that was Naruto's whole point. His whole argument to me the day he fought me was that he loved his friends because they saved him from his loneliness — that you need to bond with those closest to you."

Kankuro felt a surge of hope at those words. Maybe, after all this time . . .

Gaara looked up from Naruto's grave. "You asked me last night to let you in, let you help. I said I would, but I realized this morning the importance of that request. Out of everyone dead or alive, Temari and you have become the closest to me. Although I will miss Naruto, I can't afford to live my life mourning the relationship I didn't get to have with this person I idolized; I need to focus on the real loving relationships I already have. If not, I'll be like Father — not realizing until after I'm dead that I got everything backwards." He snorted. "If I did do something like that, Naruto would kick my ass in the afterlife for missing the whole point."

"You bet he would," Kankuro agreed. He held out his hand.

Gaara accepted it, and Kankuro pulled him to his feet, hugging him. Gaara paused, then slipped his arms around Kankuro's waist, hugging him back.

After a moment, Kankuro released Gaara and met his gaze. "I'm glad you're thinking this through. I wasn't sure what I was going to do if you shut me out and mourned Naruto all alone forever." He tilted his head. "And it's not like we don't bring pieces of our loved ones with us. Maybe us more than others."

Gaara raised a hairless brow. "What do you mean?"

"Father and Mother's spirits," Kankuro said matter-of-factly.

"Their spirits?" Gaara glanced around them, his brow furrowing.

Kankuro nodded. "Didn't you wonder why I wasn't upset that you got to talk to Father and I didn't?"

Gaara stared at him. "I just thought . . ."

"I didn't want to? Hardly." Kankuro smiled. "A piece of Father's spirit has stayed with me since the night of his funeral. Just like a piece of Mother's spirit has stayed in your sand since you were born."

Gaara's eyes widened. "He did?"

Kankuro smiled. "Yep. He's been watching over us ever since he died." He paused. "You might not have a piece of Naruto's spirit with you, but you do have the Will of Fire, which you inherited from Naruto. And you'll carry memories, shared experiences, shared dreams . . . As long as you live, a piece of Naruto will live inside you. Just like Father and Mother will be looking out for us."

Gaara hesitated, looking down at the ground. "But I think . . . I would like to have living people looking out for me, too." He raised his eyes and scanned Kankuro's face. "I often thought of how Naruto was that person who could pull me through a crisis . . . but I realized at his funeral that I was hardly special. In that way, our relationship was never personal. He would do the same for anyone." He visibly steeled himself. "Last night there were very few people you would have done that for. But I was one of them . . . and I should feel special. Because I warrant your attention, and I always warranted it, even when I thought I didn't need an older brother." He reached out and took Kankuro's arm. "If anything, this experience has reinforced my knowledge that I do. I do need an older brother, Kankuro. And it's you."

Kankuro was initially speechless. He hadn't expected such a direct affirmation, even though he'd gained the esteemed position of Gaara's personal bodyguard. "G-Gaara . . ." He found a smile coming to his lips. _I've been trying to reach you all this time, and finally you reached me._

Gaara gave him a small smile and pulled him into a gentle hug. "Thank you. And thank you for going up to the podium with me when I was called upon to make a speech on behalf of Naruto's memory. I know you hate funerals."

"God, do I," Kankuro said, hugging Gaara in return. "And you're welcome. There was no way I was letting you go up there and face that alone."

"Thank you," Gaara whispered. He didn't let go of Kankuro. Instead, he rested his head against Kankuro's shoulder. "I would never have survived an experience like this without you and Temari by my side. During the past few days, it has been mostly you. I realize that I was shutting everyone out . . . but you did not pay attention. Just like you never paid attention to my attempts to shut you out. You always knew when you were needed anyway, in spite of me. I apologize for making you fight to save me. I should never have done that." He looked into Kankuro's eyes. "And I won't again."

Kankuro met his gaze. "Good." He thought it ironic that losing Naruto had essentially given him his brother in full. "Good. I have always wished to be your niisan, and not only in name. It's what I really was trying to tell you when Father died: I love you, so I would have never let your body be tossed away or your memory forgotten. You won't die alone. Not again. I tried to stop it from happening the first time, and you can damn well be sure I'll stop it a second time. You won't be abandoned. You have me."

Gaara placed a hand over his heart, absorbing that declaration. He closed his eyes. "I believe that you, too, have me. Any vows should be exchanged in full, not merely taken for granted by one party or the other. I will not allow your body to be tossed aside or your memory forgotten, nor will you die alone. You won't be abandoned." He opened his eyes and looked at Kankuro. "Because I love you."

"Then it's a pledge," Kankuro said. Life, death, rebirth. The cycle never ended, and Kankuro realized that Naruto's death had, in fact, led to a birth. He wouldn't have to wonder any longer if he truly had an ototo because he did. Gaara's gaze was now acknowledging him. His words had singled him out as special.

It could now be a time of peace.


End file.
